dropped their ropes and milled in confusion. Several of the ships cast off and backed desperately into the stream to meet the foe, their banks of oars flailing wildly. Others hesitated, waiting for their complements to return. Those arriving at the strand leaped aboard the nearest ship, so that many galleys sailed with barely a warrior aboard, and others with so many that there was but little room to stand. The slaves at the oars, hearing the trumpets and tumult but unable to see what was happening, panicked and crossed their oars and the helmsmen struggled to hold their courses.
Havoc reigned amidst the black fleet as each ship tried to back and turn to meet the foe. Ship collided with ship and men were thrown into the water. Oars clattered together as neighboring ships tried to gain room to maneuver. One long galleass became turned across the strand and was struck by several other ships attempting to move away from shore.
But the Corsairs were accomplished seamen and were soon bringing their ships under control. Within moments a score or more of bireme galleys and six or eight heavy trireme galleasses pulled free of the wheeling, jostling press of ships. Across the water came the beat of drums and the cracking of whips, and the banks of sweeps began to rise and fall as one. They looked like great birds of prey, the oars like beating wings. They quickly formed into a wide arc, the flanks slightly in advance of the center as they moved out to meet the new enemy.
As they approached, the Elves could make out better their appearance. The hulls were long, narrow, and low, the oarsmen protected by leather covers so that only their oars could be seen. Narrow raised walkways ran the length of the ships, and these were crowded with armed men. The sterns curved up into carved heads of dragons or other foul beasts, but their prows terminated in long brazen rams edged with sharpened teeth on either side.
Cirdan ordered the mainsail braced round to spill its wind and allow the rest of the fleet to form up into a wedge behind. The warriors stood motionless, gripping their weapons and watching in fascination as two thousand black oars dipped and fell and the Corsair fleet gathered speed.
When the fleets were separated by no more than two cables' lengths, the Elvish archers dipped their shafts in the burning pitch and sent a continuous rain of fire into the advancing galleys. Several sails burst into flame and men toppled from the fighting bridges as they were pierced by flaming arrows, but the line did not waver and the oars continued to dip and rise with a terrible regularity.
As the ships closed further Cirdan let a horn be sounded and the Elven ships behind wore ship to meet head-on the enemy flanks, now closing around them. But the flagship steered directly for the center, straight at the largest galleass, a giant trireme with a battlemented aftercastle. A few scattered arrows began to fall among them, but with little effect. The Corsair archers were pinned behind their shields by the hail of Elvish fire-arrows, and smoke now streamed from a hundred places on the hull.
Cirdan had the helm put over slightly to starboard, exposing his larboard bow to the cruel ram, now less than a hundred yards away. The galleass swerved slightly to keep the ram aimed at their bow. Cirdan snapped out a few quick orders and held his hand above his head. The ships rushed together at tremendous speed. Then, just as collision seemed inevitable, Cirdan dropped his arm. The yard was braced hard around just as the helm was thrown hard to larboard. The great sail was brought aback with a thunder of thrashing canvas. The ship lurched and groaned, but was nearly stopped by the sudden pressure of wind on the front of the sail.
The bow swung sharply toward the enemy. His ram frothed by but a few feet from their bow as, with a terrible rending and splintering, the entire starboard bank of oars was sheared off by the white hull. Then her aftercastle was drawing alongside Amroth where he stood in the stern. He saw her commander sitting in a high seat like a throne. He was leaning forward, shouting to his helmsmen, but before he could speak Amroth had put a shaft through his chest, pinning him to his seat. Quickly fitting another shaft, he brought down one of his officers and Gilrondil beside him felled another, even as they passed out of range astern, crippled and aflame. The Elves cheered as they leaped to the braces to come about while the esquires carried the wounded below. They had lost only two dead and three wounded and the galleass was destroyed.
As they wore ship close under the shore, Gilrondil turned to Amroth. 'Fine shooting, my Lord Amroth. You sent two shafts true to their mark before I could get one away.'
The Wood-Elf grinned. 'Perhaps my poor short Sindarin bow is not without its uses at sea, Master.' But he thought Gilrondil still looked unconvinced as he bent again to his quiver. A young Elf ran by, his arms full of arrows, filling each archer's quiver.
Then they were heading back toward the fray and found a brief moment to look about. Several galleys lay motionless in the water, wreathed in flame, and men were leaping into the River, only to find themselves amidst a mass of maneuvering ships and razor-toothed rams. The River was choked with the wrack of ships and many white hulls lay split and broken. Finarthin's fair corbita was gone, and Linroth's, and Belcarnen's drifted rudderless and aflame.
Then out of the tumult and smoke, two lean galleys drew off and made straight for the flagship. One soon pulled ahead and the other followed close on his larboard quarter. The Elves again let fly their rain of flaming arrows, and in a moment had nearly swept the leading ship's forecastle clear.
'The helmsmen!' Amroth shouted. 'Aim for the helmsmen on the second ship!' A dozen keen-eyed Elves let fly at once and one helmsman slumped to the deck. Another leaped to his place just as the second helmsman clutched his chest and toppled into the River. A final deadly volley cleared the aftercastle and the galley rowed ahead with no hand to guide her. Seeing this, Cirdan put his helm to starboard and swung across their bows. The leading galley wheeled to engage them, and the other drove full into her side. The wounded ship was lifted high onto the other's prow, spilling men into the River and fouling her sister in rigging and wreckage.
Cirdan came about and hove to close to windward of the crossed hulls. He called for the grapples and three hooks looped out over the enemy ships. Many eager hands tailed on to the lines and drew the hulls alongside. While the archers sent a hail of arrows into the warriors clustered on their aftercastle, Gilrondil and a score of bold Elves leaped to the rail. 'Elbereth!' they cried, 'Elbereth a Manwe!' Then they threw themselves onto the enemy ship and cut a bloody path along the fighting bridge with their spears and swords.
At the foot of the ladder leading to the aftercastle, they were halted by a desperate defense. There stood a man, tall for his race, in a captain's lofty helmet, and surrounded by six knights. They held long curved sabers and their eyes were hard and fearless.
Gilrondil halted and called out, 'You are defeated, Men of Umbar. Lay down your weapons and your lives shall be spared.' But their captain gave a grim laugh.
'Accursed Elvish meddlers! Would you spare my life? But I would rather take the life of an immortal!' And he swept his saber over his head to slash down at Gilrondil, but he fell pierced through by Gilrondil's spear. The captain's knights fell upon the Elves fiercely, but in a few moments of deadly fury all lay sprawled on the deck, though two Elves lay stretched out beside them. Then Gilrondil took up the captain's saber and with a single stroke hacked the black banner of Umbar from its staff and it fluttered into the River. The boarding party freed the grapples and scrambled back to their own deck.
Their shipmates greeted their triumphal return with a cheer, but it died in their throats, for at that moment a trireme passed by close to larboard and sent a deadly fire into them. All around Amroth Elves fell to the deck, pierced by long black-feathered arrows. Gilrondil fell groaning, a shaft through his thigh. One of the helmsmen dropped and another took his place. The galley sheered off and swung about to engage them again. Amroth took careful aim as it receded and put a shaft through the back of its captain. The ship wavered and the drum stopped. The oars hesitated briefly, and in that moment an Elf on the forecastle let fly the catapult and sent a great stone hurtling toward her. It dropped through the leather shield into the slaves' benches and must have torn right out through the bottom, for the oarsmen on that side threw back the shield and began leaping into the water.
The Elves had no time to attend to them. They left the crippled ship dead in the water and listing heavily, and jibed to return to the fray. There near them was Hithimir's great corbita. Her forecastle was aflame and her decks were littered with the dead. Though there were few left to sail her, she was coming about to return to the battle with Cirdan. Side by side they drove grimly down on the wheeling, circling ships.
As they approached, a galleass moved out to meet them. Their fire raked her decks and took a terrible toll, but her men were staunch and quailed not, but stood and returned shaft for shaft. Then her catapult clattered and a huge ball of flame arced roaring toward Hithimir's ship. It burst full on the sail and burning oil drenched all the rigging and those on the deck below. Amroth could see Elves rolling on the deck and beating at their clothes, but soon the whole ship was aflame. Many leaped into the River but they could not aid them, for the galleass was
